


words were dead leaves

by k8 (paintedmaypole)



Category: Lynn Flewelling - Nightrunner series
Genre: M/M, Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedmaypole/pseuds/k8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're ten days out from Watermead and it's almost winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words were dead leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Lynn Flewelling - Nightrunner series, Written for: Wolfling in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge
> 
> Many thanks to [Dale](http://viggorlijah.livejournal.com/), [Katie](http://smartlikejustin.livejournal.com/), and [kel.](http://throughadoor.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Title from _Stalking Darkness_ by Lynn Flewelling.

They're ten days out from Watermead and it's almost winter. Alec still doesn't know where they're headed, but the further they are from Rhiminee, the more Seregil seems to wake up. For the moment, that's enough to keep him moving.

Seregil is still quiet, though. Every few hours, Alec has to fight the urge to shake him, or tap his arm. Just to be sure he's paying attention.

At night Alec can't let go of him. He wakes up with his hands on Seregil's shoulders and his legs hooked around Seregil's knees, pinning him down. He sleeps in short bursts of two or three hours and then starts awake to make sure Seregil is still there, close enough to touch.

*

On the twelfth day Alec sleeps deeply, like he used to before, and wakes up late. His body knows that Seregil's not next to him before he even opens his eyes. Instead, he forces himself to look up above the tree line, and tries to stop the rolling feeling in his stomach.

The sky is grey, clouds across everything. Seregil's blankets are in a limp pile on the ground at Alec's feet. The only noise is coming from the horses moving nearby, and the fire, which is lit. Alec is standing there, peering at the trees, when Seregil comes back into view. He has two dead rabbits in one hand, the other one on the knife at his belt.

Then it's just awkward. Alec watches Seregil as he walks closer and drops the two furry bodies onto the ground. Seregil sits and looks from the fire to Alec and the blankets. He frowns. Alec doesn't say anything, just sits down next to Seregil, his body falling heavily into place. Seregil pulls the knife from his belt and begins to skin the first rabbit.

It's quiet again. Seregil throws the skin onto the edge of the fire and the smell of burnt hair comes up towards them. It makes Alec's eyes smart and he turns to look at the ground instead. He pulls at the grass.

Seregil stops, shaking out his arm and frowning at the smoke. "I'll wake you next time," he says, "before I leave."

Alec nods and tries not to feel relieved. Then reaches for his own knife and the other rabbit.

*

By the third week Alec has red stripes on the inside of each leg from too much riding and grey-green bruises on his shoulder from falling into a riverbed. They're heading towards the Fishless Sea and Alec thinks that now, maybe, the knot between Seregil's shoulders is loosening. They don't talk a lot. Alec tries to talk about the horses sometimes, or a trade route they might try, but after a few minutes the conversation usually fades away.

At the end of the week, they stop at the first real inn they find and Seregil demands a proper bath. He tells Alec he smells at least three times, then refuses to come out from the tub until the steam has long stopped rising off the water. It's their first real bed in weeks, ridiculously welcome after the long bath, and Alec decides he's too tired to have nightmares.

He falls asleep fast, but wakes up again once the moon rises. When he looks up to check on Seregil, Alec finds him watching back from the other side of the bed. Seregil's hair is only beginning to dry, half of it flat against his head from the pillow.

The bed is comfortable and the blankets don't smell like smoke. They haven't slept like this in weeks and Alec just looks back at Seregil, not sure what to say. Seregil frowns and pulls him over. He tugs at Alec's knee until it's hooked over his own again, then leans into Alec's shoulder to sleep, his hair damp under Alec's chin.

*

Two more weeks and they're still moving towards the sea. Circling around different villages and collections of farms, trying to find some place they can fade into for the winter. There's snow on the ground in some places but there's only been one storm. When it cleared, Alec watched Seregil wrap his scarp tighter around him. Then they kept going.

The next town the fall into, a girl tries to pick Seregil's pocket in the crowd and he gets a look in his eye, a certain wariness that puts Alec on edge. They eat dinner at an inn called the Wooden Gnome. Afterwards, Seregil claims a bench next to the fire, his shoulders curling over into it.

Alec goes through their inventory in his head. They need more hard-cheese. Seregil lost his flint in the riverbed incident. Alec needs a new jerkin.

The fire snaps suddenly, sap from the log hitting the flames. Seregil flinches at the noise and Alec tenses in his chair.

"We should stay here," Seregil says abruptly. He stretches his foot out to kick the log back, then looks at Alec. "They have rooms renting down the lane."

Alec stops worrying about the inventory. "Here?" He looks back at Seregil, then around the room, at the group of men behind them, talking about brewing beer and the hop harvest. "Here?"

There's another pop from the fire and Seregil shrugs. "It'll be like jumping of the roof."

Even later, lying in bed, Alec is still uncertain. Seregil stretches up to blow out the lamp and his movements are sure, relaxed. Alec watches the way his throat moves and his shoulders turn, the muscles under his skin. He likes it, that he's used to this now, in the evening. When Seregil falls back into bed, Alec pulls him in, his hand at the back of Seregil's neck, tugging until Seregil's mouth is on his and his fingers slide into Alec's hair.

Alec still doesn't know all the right places to put his hands or how to move his mouth to meet Seregil's smoothly. His nose hits Seregil's cheek, but instead of pulling back, Seregil just hums against his mouth, putting himself in Alec's hands like he's another lock to learn. Until Alec has to stop and pull back, so he can push his hands into Seregil's, spreading their arms out and leaning against him. They breathe loudly in the dark.

Seregil looks up at Alec. "We should stay." Seregil pushes up from the mattress to kiss him, keeping their fingers together. "Just for now."

Alec looks at him sharply, his mouth twisting. Seregil watches him back, squeezing the fingers of Alec's left hand. Then Alec nods, closes his eyes, and leans against Seregil's chest. He dreams about running through the woods again, rocks cutting into his feet. About waking up and finding out that none of this is real.

*

Within days they're working jobs again. Just small ones, harmless errands that Alec can't really object to, even when he thinks he should. The mayor's daughter gave her lover a ring and she wants it back. A smith wants someone to watch her storehouse every night for a week to prevent thieves. His worrying makes Seregil tease him, which is a relief just in itself. Occasionally, Alec thinks about the coming spring, but most of the time he thinks about the day ahead of them.

They're settled. They have a room, a bed. Alec has a chair that's his. It sits across from Seregil's and the fire. Now that they're in one place, they both have to deal with nightmares again.

Alec dreams about the dyrmagnos. About Irtuk Beshar's hand moving back towards her arm, reconnecting together and digging up out of the earth to find her shoulder, a leg. All of her.

He wakes up in the middle of it, usually. Seregil shaking his shoulder or holding his hand too tightly. Seregil's nightmares are quieter. Alec only wakes up when Seregil is shaking himself out of them and Alec doesn't know what to say afterwards. They just stay awake together. Or go out, do a job, do something away from beds and rooms until morning when it's light.

The winter sets in. They make a contact in the merchant district, a potter who knows everyone and everything. She sends word to them about jobs that need doing. They turn down half of them, but Seregil gets excited about the ones that involve rooftops. He always takes them, waving the notes at Alec and grinning. He insists they need practice climbing around the ice on shingles.

It's a challenge for a while, until Alec can do it blindfolded and then it's just cold and wet. The ice starts to melt, the slush crawls down his arms and into his boots, and Alec really doesn't like rooftops. Soon even Seregil has to admit that the Dalnans have a point about water being unpleasant. At least, when it's this sort.

One night Seregil slides into the gutter during a job and Alec nearly falls off the roof rescuing him. Afterwards, they head back to their rooms and Seregil pulls out one of the few books they brought with them, looking through it, flipping the pages quickly for something that can't be found. Then pacing when he can't find it and can't even tell Alec what it is he needs.

Alec can't help but smile, knowing that the look on his face will be obvious. He's dry again, just changed into one of Seregil's old tunics. He's in his chair, with a book of his own to read. It's snowing outside.

Seregil puts down the parchment he's holding and turns to the window, looking out through the space in the pane that's rubbed clear. He taps on the glass, not looking at Alec. "I'm glad you came with me, he says. "You know that, don't you?"

Alec shrugs. "You didn't have a choice. You had better be glad."

"Well," Seregil nods, "that might be true." Alec looks back at the book but he can feel Seregil watching him. "You know..."

There's an odd pause. "What?" Alec asks, one hand on his open book.

Seregil taps his foot on the floorboards. He frowns. "Spring is coming."

Alec looks over at the fire, pressing his lips together for a moment. "We'll pick somewhere to go." He looks backup at Seregil. "When the snow starts to melt."

Seregil rubs at the back of his neck, then smiles. "Good." He moves away from the window. "I'm going to bed."

Alec goes back to reading, half listening to fire. Seregil crosses the room to the bed, the side he sleeps on, but doesn't get in. He shifts from foot to foot, and then turns. The fire makes the shadows on his face move.

"You might--" Seregil pauses and steps towards Alec. "Are you actually reading that?"

Alec looks up, then down at the book again. He laughs and closes it. "I can stop."

Seregil smiles. "Well then."

After all this, the rest is inevitable.


End file.
